Since we finished the garden we've become quite the backyard entertainers. Today it was lunch with my fam.
Golden moments from lunch with The Fam:
1. When my 15yo bro told Grandma to 'suck it'
2. When octogenerian Gma bitched about how much old people complain
3. Hearing Gma's stories of the politics of having 'special friends' over in the village. (in your villa is accepted but bringing your fuck buddies to the communal carvery is definitely a no no)
Gold I tells you. Gold.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Superhuman Weaknesses
It’s important to be aware of your weaknesses. It allows you to work on them, to improve. If (as in my case) it is impossible to improve on your weakness you must find a way to adapt, to achieve the desired result in a different way. Like people in wheelchairs that have crazy guns because they use their arms for everything. Or blind people who’s other senses are superhuman because they have to rely on them so much.
I have hid my one weakness for my whole life. That’s right, for the past 26 years no one has noticed that I am incapable of performing this simple task, until the other day.
We were in the car, on our way to the inaugural Windram Family Kulin Bush Races Camping Weekend or WFKBRCW as I will forever call it, when my husband looks over at me and says, “What are you doing?!”
I had been caught.
“You just pull it” He says.
“I know that!” retorts I, “I can read you know” and I continued to fumble, eventually using my usual ‘pointy bit through the top’ technique that had got me through the last 26 years.
I later confessed to him my weakness. He laughed and he laughed and demonstrated to me the correct technique. I watched closely, he pulled, it all happened – just like it always does when someone else does it. Later on I tried the technique myself and as usual, nothing. For some reason I am just incapable of doing it.
The thing I worry about is one day when I have children, what if they inherit my disability? What if they are forced to go through the same playground torment that I did? What if they dread the lunchbox too? How can I call myself a good mother if my children can’t even remove a juicebox straw from it’s wrapper correctly?
I mean, you just pull, right?
I have hid my one weakness for my whole life. That’s right, for the past 26 years no one has noticed that I am incapable of performing this simple task, until the other day.
We were in the car, on our way to the inaugural Windram Family Kulin Bush Races Camping Weekend or WFKBRCW as I will forever call it, when my husband looks over at me and says, “What are you doing?!”
I had been caught.
“You just pull it” He says.
“I know that!” retorts I, “I can read you know” and I continued to fumble, eventually using my usual ‘pointy bit through the top’ technique that had got me through the last 26 years.
I later confessed to him my weakness. He laughed and he laughed and demonstrated to me the correct technique. I watched closely, he pulled, it all happened – just like it always does when someone else does it. Later on I tried the technique myself and as usual, nothing. For some reason I am just incapable of doing it.
The thing I worry about is one day when I have children, what if they inherit my disability? What if they are forced to go through the same playground torment that I did? What if they dread the lunchbox too? How can I call myself a good mother if my children can’t even remove a juicebox straw from it’s wrapper correctly?
I mean, you just pull, right?
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